O Holy Night And
by MissJJD
Summary: ONE SHOT...A little bit of festive fluff. The story takes place after Undiscovered Country...Olivia Benson finds herself somewhere she doesn't often and with some very unexpected company... This is a Barson fic, if you don't like the pairing, this isn't for you... (The interpretations are mine and no offence is intended to anyone)


**This has been a long time coming because to be honest I simply couldn't watch Barba's last episode more than once... But with Christmas and all, well I hope you like it, please review.**

Lieutenant Olivia Benson wasn't conventionally religious, not by the stretch of anyone's imagination. It wasn't something she talked about and she certainly didn't want to offend anyone with her beliefs or even lack of them. Doing the job that she did and had done for a long time, of course she prayed, but in her own way. Sometimes doing the job that she did, the things that she had seen, even those who had perpetrated crimes made the veteran SVU detective cynical about religion.

In that own way of hers, she had prayed that someone was found safely, or that someone hadn't suffered too much, sometimes she simply prayed for the strength to carry on. She prayed for her friends, for her colleagues, even for her son Noah. None more so than when he had been taken by his maternal grandmother, and just lately that he would quickly grow out of the wilful, argumentative stage he was going through.

Over the years her prayers had even stretched to an Assistant District Attorney or two, that definitely wasn't always in the conventional sense, usually it was that they were in a good mood, or that they would be on her side when she presented them with a particularly difficult case. However, on a more serious note, it had unfortunately been that they too would be safe, most of them during her time at SVU having encountered personal injury, threats or tragedy of some kind. Sonya Paxton had been stabbed and killed, Alex Cabot, shot and put into witness protection and only recently Peter Stone's sister had been murdered.

Even Rafael Barba…. Olivia guiltily reined in her thoughts of her friend whom she hadn't spoken to in quite some time and whom missed more than she ever thought possible. Quickly and quietly slipping through the partially open door of a place she rarely found herself, church or to be more accurate and more upmarket, if you could say that about such a place, St Patrick's Cathedral on 5th Avenue.

Her last couple of Christmas presents brought, she felt strangely drawn towards the beautiful Cathedral which sat on the famous thoroughfare.

Moving through the half open door, she noticed a large congregation has assembled for a festive service, and Olivia toyed with leaving, she'd really been looking for some peace and quiet somewhere to think, perhaps the large neo gothic tourist attraction hadn't been the best idea, but something continued to draw her inside, and just as quickly and quietly, the police detective slipped into a vacant pew at the very back of the famous old building. Of course, with the service in full flow and those assembled inside, about to receive Holy Communion, the cathedral wasn't as quiet as she'd imagined, a gentle rustle of people moving about, and muted voices drifted into the air but somehow it still managed to exude an air of peaceful serenity. A peace which seeped into Olivia's weary, cold bones as she watched them move forward. The people sounds were suddenly masked by the opening strains of one of her favourite Christmas carols drifting from the pipe organ, it suddenly felt very festive, a melodic almost familiar voice gently and beautifully serenading them. A soft smile curved Olivia's mouth as she simply sat listening, closing her eyes, the wonderful feeling of Christmas flowing through her veins for the first time.

There was still something oddly familiar about the tone of the voice which caressed the carol, a deep reverberating sound.

"A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices"

Olivia's little smile drifted into a small frown of consternation as she tried to pinpoint the familiarity. The musicality softened, and the words became slightly more spoken. Olivia chided herself, her earlier reflective thoughts, had clearly led her ridiculous imagination to run amuck. But her brain would not be dissuaded, and she found herself listening harder, her search for a little peace, now completely forgotten as her brain searched for something else. Olivia shook her head as if trying to shake the ridiculous notion from it, her brown hair tumbling about her shoulders with the action.

Just as she had been drawn into the Cathedral, Olivia now found herself drawn to the voice. No matter how much she tried to tell her brain it was being ridiculous, as the familiar voice began to soar once more, and she all but strained her ears, she became more and more convinced that her brain was not being so absurd after all.

With people still getting up and moving around, doing so herself wasn't difficult, grasping her two small packages, she stepped easily amongst those returning to their seats and those still heading towards the alter. She almost walked into one of the stone pillars when her _ridiculous notion_ became reality. Standing just to the left of the alter, perched at a very different lectern to the one she was used to seeing him at, but looking none the less sartorially elegant, incredibly handsome and singing so surprisingly beautifully, was none other than former Manhattan Assistant District Attorney and her much missed friend Rafael Barba. Despite her surprise, Olivia's heart burst with pride and melted all at once, her hand flying to her mouth to cover the small gasp which sprang from her lips.

Transfixed, her knees suddenly felt a little wobbly with so much emotion, Olivia sat down in another vacant pew just to the side of the offending pillar, her packages clattering to the floor. Through a sea of heads, she watched surreptitiously as her friend continued to sing.

"Who knew?" she said almost aloud, her gloved hand resting on her pounding chest, tears pricking her eyes.

As the carol accompanying the communion came to an end, Olivia's glistening brown eyes still rested on the man she had worked with for six years, and who she missed every day.

When Rafael Barba had first left the Manhattan DA's office, Olivia had convinced herself, the loss she felt was purely professional, the unending hurt was the way in which he had left and that she had of course lost a good friend. But as the weeks and months had passed, Olivia gave up trying to kid herself, but she still had to live with the unending hurt. No matter how joyous it was seeing him, hearing him, nothing had changed. She bowed her head ever so slightly along with the rest of the congregation, as prayers were said. Olivia said a little prayer of her own.

Hearing her former colleague sing had been a revelation in itself; she had always enjoyed listening to him speak. His acerbic, skilled tongue in the courtroom, his sensitive, warm understanding tone with a victim, or sometimes that hurt little boy she'd encountered on a couple of instances, which occasionally lapsed into Spanish, a sound which had always sent an odd shiver dancing along her spine and made her heart beat faster. Hearing him sing in Latin sent that odd little shiver careering along her spine and just about everywhere else at a rate of knots, it made her heart beat so fast she felt it was about to jump out of her chest. Another of her favourite carols that she would never again be able to listen to without thinking of Rafael Barba, but then she spent a lot of time thinking about him. The joy of his voice was again tinged not so much with sadness be regret, and she once more felt the sting of tears prick her eyes and constrict her throat.

"Liv?"

So wrapped up had she been in her own thoughts, her own pain, Olivia hadn't noticed the organ had rousingly continued to play the carol, unaccompanied by his voice. The congregation had quietly begun to leave, taking her concealment with them. She opened her eyes, knowing they would be bright from her unshed tears, and looked into the striking face and beautiful expressive green eyes of Rafael Barba.

Everything the former Manhattan ADA had wanted to say died on his lips as he looked into her sparkling brown eyes, her lovely, but slightly sad face, wrenched at his heart and not for the first time, he wondered how, and why he had ever left. He saw his own hand reach out and caress her soft warm cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. He instinctively knew she would not recoil from his somehow intimate touch, but he honestly wasn't sure what else to expect.

Olivia leaned into the surprisingly soft hand which stroked her cheek, she wanted him to touch her so much, she needed to feel his closeness. She didn't remember taking off her gloves, but at some point, she must have unknowingly done so, as her bare fingers curled around his free hand, squeezing them tightly as she held his gaze.

"Oh Raffa" She said, her voice husky, passionate and barely audible, even in the now hushed, emptying cathedral.

Rafael Barba had stood before her twice, just as he did now, his limpid green eyes steeped in heartfelt emotion, but also in something she had never quite been able to fathom. The second time, his too had been brimming with tears, as he had talked of old movies, the good guys and the bad and ironically of shades of grey. Telling her unashamedly that she had weaselled her way into his world and coloured it, and how in a way he had become her. That she had opened up his heart and he had thanked her for it.

Tentatively and expectantly, she had asked him "And?" Olivia had hoped, and at that moment she had prayed, his response would have been something so very different, every tiny detail was sadly, achingly etched on her memory. Her eyes had searched his face, almost pleadingly, watching as he had swallowed very hard…

"I've got to move on" He'd said, his voice rasping through his own tearful emotion, his warm breath misting the cold air.

His talk of those old movies, High Noon, and likening himself to Gary Cooper, had put the theme from the classic old western in Olivia's head, the first line kept going around and around… "Do not forsake me oh my darlin".

His gloved hand had rested against her hair, as he kissed her on her forehead, his cold, gloriously soft lips had lingered, almost breaking her. The pain she had felt on that bitterly cold day, she could still feel every time she remembered those words. Then he had walked away, taking so much of the colour from her world and shutting off her piece of her heart. She had replayed it over and over again so many times in her mind, wondering if he was just moving on from the job, would he ever come back?

His fingers were still caressing her cheek, Olivia's free hand came to cover them, she squeezed them just as tightly as the other hand, turning her face into the palm she kissed it, her eyes meeting his once more. It was a simple, tender action, normally quite innocuous. But something told them both, this was not normal, and the tender action was far from innocuous, the soft brush of her lips against his skin, loaded with so much more than a simple _friendly_ kiss.

"And…?" She asked him again, just as she had done that cold February day, her eyes once more searching his handsome face. Again he swallowed hard, and she noticed him take a deep steadying breath. Something told her, he remembered that day, their exchange, their emotions with as much clarity as she did.

"I had to move on… from the job." He moved a little closer, his hand drifting from her cheek to her hair.

"Just as you brought colour into my world and opened up my heart Liv, leaving you drained those colours once more it, but it was no longer simply black and white, my heart ached and became closed." His voice cracked.

Olivia too edged forward so they were almost touching, this time his lips were just as soft, but incredibly warm as they brushed against hers. This time it was with a lingering sweetness, which flooded her body with joy, when their eyes met once more it wasn't with aching sadness but with sheer happiness.

When Rafael Barba turned to leave, he had Olivia Benson's hand firmly in his own, and was taking her with him…


End file.
